


Ghosting

by DakoLaymo



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Autumn, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:36:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DakoLaymo/pseuds/DakoLaymo
Summary: Dex, resident of a small autumn town, begins to have dreams frequented by deceased ex-classmate Derek Nurse. At first it's something he can rationalize, brush off-- but when dreams seem all too coherent, and bleed into reality, Dex is forced to face past interactions with his classmate with new perspective.





	1. Chapter 1

         The first time William Poindexter saw Derek on the side of the road, it had been a year exactly since his senior prom. The end of highschool had taken him on a brief stint of attempted college, which he gave up to work full time when financial problems at home became financial crisis. Catching lobsters and hoisting fish at the docks wasn’t clean work, and often it kept him long into the night hours even after the rigs returned to harbor.  
  
         That night hadn’t been the first night that he was returning home way after dark, driving along the twisting, forested roads that skirted around the edge of town. He tried not to think too much on how sore his neck was, or how his feet ached against the pedals, or how his fingers stayed stiff around the pickup’s torn steering wheel cover.  
  
         He wondered briefly what his sisters had done, today. Their school year hadn’t ended-- but it’s possible his Mother had taken the youngest into town, to pay their respects. Part of him was thankful he didn’t have the time between shifts to attend. Another part of him felt guilty. After all, the entire town was still mourning. Healing, he guessed.  
  
          It was calming, watching the stripes of faded paint on the narrow road bleed together into a river of flaking white. He eased back into his chair some, but made note to slow down the vehicle, just a little.  
  
         Tonight of all nights, he should remember that these roads are dangerous.  
  
         The trees, which usually stretched tall overhead in all shades of red and orange this time of year, looked thin and solemn in the dark. Their roots would occasionally twist up in knots from the ground like crooked fingers as his headlights fell over them, and it wasn’t uncommon to have to slow down if a root had upturned a portion of the road. Speed bumps, sort of. He’d always thought of them that way.  
  
         He wondered if the night Derek Nurse crashed, if he’d flown right over those bumps. The newspaper image of that shiny new Audi, wrapped around the base of a tree cluster, was fresh as ever in Dex’s head. He remembered vividly how the blue metal was crumpled like a candy wrapper, picture intentionally positioned to omit the driver’s seat and whatever was still inside.  
  
         Nurse loved that stupid car. When he first got it, a large majority of their class went out into the parking lot to envy it. Their school had been small, and as far as popularity went, Nurse and his Audi took the cake.

         Even after his death, Nurse was voted most popular. Dex guessed it was a show of respect, but it didn’t sit right with him. From what he could tell, the guy hadn’t even been interested in prom king. He never entered the race.  
  
         Maybe that was insensitive. Maybe he didn’t know him well.  
  
         He reminded himself to stay focused on the road. Rolled the window down to let sharp, cold air into the cab of the truck. When he dragged his hand down his own jaw, he felt patchy stubble there. When’s the last time he’d cleaned himself up?  
  
         Further up ahead, a glimmer pulled his attention. It took him a second, but as he neared he swallowed, quirking his mouth in a guilty way.  
  
         Of course they would have come out here to decorate his memorial. Even in the dark, colorful foil balloons drifted back and forth in the autumn breeze on wispy ribbons. Most of the year, the small cross stood unassuming, the beady embossment ‘ **_DEREK NURSE_ ** ’ all that was left of the accident, or Upper Arlington High’s most popular student. Today, it had been showered with offerings and love. Flowers burst from the interstices of every note and framed picture.  
  
         Dex did slow down his truck, leaning out of the window slightly. The breaks of the pickup, direly in need of a tune up, squeaked as he came to a full stop.  
  
         He watched in silence as the balloons swayed, and the roots clawed up through the wet soil, wind whistling far off in the trees.

         Wait, what was he doing? Christ, the girls were probably still waiting for him in their beds. And if his Mother had fallen asleep after her shift…  
  
         His chin lifted, eyes falling again on that memorial. The earth was still scarred from where the Audi had ripped apart the soil.  
  
         It was time to go home. He re-positioned the stick, thankful that the rumble of the engine drowned out the groan of the woods. The truck sputtered then lurched, sending him on his way past the memorial, towards town. With each foot the cross shrank away some, only barely visible as the dark clung to it.  
  
         Dex let himself relax again, reaching up to adjust the rearview. With the jerk of his hand the mirror dropped over the reflection of the road.  
  
         Nurse stood rigid on the crumbling cement, his form just barely swimming over the shadows in the distance, shoulders slack and arms hanging heavily at his sides.  
  
         The redhead slammed his work boot over the break so hard that he was thrown forwards in his seat, only stopped when his seatbelt went taut. He choked, cold air sticking in his throat, and fumbled to twist against the now confining belt to lean out of the window.  
  
         By the time he whipped around, the road was empty behind him. He hung out of the drivers side, frozen in place, gasping for air. All was still in the deep, spindly wood.  
  
         A low, pained creak came from somewhere out there as the wind picked up. It blew Dex’s hair off of his forehead, cutting through his exposed sleeve. Far back at the cross, the balloons were whipping back and forth, so much so that they hit the ground on either side of the memorial.  
  
          _It was time to go home._  
  
         This time, he didn’t stop to fix the rearview before teasing the gas and letting the pickup build speed. He couldn’t relax until he’d crossed the bridge into the lower side of town, and the familiar lights that spilled from warm kitchens and humble living rooms flooded his mirrors.

 


	2. Chapter 2

          It was easy for Dex to rationalize things. He’d always been good at it, finding the lines and making situations fit into the spaces between them, so that everything made sense. Life was better when taken with a grain of salt. Besides, he had real responsibilities to keep.

          That doesn’t include giving into a trick of the headlights, and telling anyone that he saw something spooky in the woods. All rumors like that are good for is ghost stories, which he’s never been any good at telling.

          Derek Nurse wasn’t just some ghost story or urban legend. He deserved more than being branded as a fake, local haunt.

          He’d decided that exact night that he’d let himself get overwhelmed by the day’s work, and the memorial. He ought to be ashamed of himself for letting his own imagination get so out of hand. He was an adult, and Nurse was gone.

          Maybe he wasn’t as detached from the accident as he’d thought he was. It was time for the whole town, him included, to move on.

          Weeks passed. He returned to work, helped get the littles to school, spent any free time he had hunched under the kitchen sink or squeezed behind the dryer trying to keep the appliances alive just a little bit longer.

          When the nightmares began, Dex was forced to grin and bear them. At first he ignored them, and they only came once or twice a week. It wasn’t until he had the same one each night that it became hard to focus. The lack of sleep started to interfere with his performance at work, his patience with his siblings.

          Identical, every time he’d drift off. He’d be driving the truck down that stretch of road, the sound of creaking trees deafening despite his windows being up, the engine’s rumble quieting the closer to the memorial he became. The temperature in the cab of the pickup would drop drastically and he’d try not to look at the boy standing near the cross up ahead.

          Nurse would notice him the second Dex saw him, without falter, and then try to flag him down. Waving his arms over his head, blazer from the dance gone and shirt in disarray. He’d shout, but Dex couldn’t hear him over the forest, and would gun the gas every time so that he flew past him. It was the only way to make the dream end, to reach the bend up the road.

          The only change in the dream was how desperate Derek became over time. He went from just standing the first night to waving one arm, then to both a few weeks in. By a month he’d tried flagging him down by using his shirt overhead, or by pointing animatedly into the woods as if to say, ‘There’s been an accident! Someone help!’

          Tonight, Dex was biding his time before settling into bed. He’d already cooked, and made a pest of himself by going room to room and making sure everyone was asleep. He brought his mom a blanket on the couch, and turned the television off for her. She’d been out for hours, herself.

          As he tossed his heavy denim coat over the back of a wooden chair, a heavy sigh escaped him. He was so tired. With these dreams, sleep only exhausted him more, and the nagging feeling that he should feel guilty for having them bit away at him all day long. What was it, all of the sudden? This- fixation, on Derek Nurse of all people, who he barely knew and barely liked.

          Shit, was that disrespectful to say? Did it change anything, either way?

          His bones sank deep into the bed as he fell backwards onto it, shoes still on his feet, shirt buttoned all the way to his neck. It took him awhile to find the energy to unbutton it, and kick off the boots.

          It was so quiet, at night. This house barely knew quiet, filled with the sounds of cartoons every morning, and his younger brother on the phone at night. Between someone shouting through a bathroom door or the dog barking at people on the sidewalk, the only time it was calm was when everyone fell asleep.

          Dex hadn’t realized just how exhausted he was. He rubbed his eyes, and no sooner had rolled over to switch off the lamp than he was sinking deeply into sleep.

          The dream started off the same as it always did, with the slow realization he was driving, and a chill seeping in through the pickup’s cab. He blinked sluggishly, before springing up straight in his seat, disoriented and afraid he’d begun to drift off on the winding roads. Popping his neck, he tested his seat-belt, assuring it was fastened securely. Sighed in relief.

          This road seemed to never end, and occasionally he’d notice a tree he was sure he’d driven past before. He ignored it, assured himself that it was a trick of the woods.

          There was familiarity in this, but it brought him no comfort. A growing feeling of dread was twisting deeper and deeper into his gut. He adjusted in the seat, went to turn on the radio.

          The sound of wood creaking exploded from the stereo with such volume and ferocity that Dex swerved, heart climbing into his throat. It took several seconds of fumbling before the radio waned, and then clicked off. The knob snapped off in his hands.

          Overwhelmed, he tossed it into the passenger seat and teased the gas. He was desperate to be back in town, desperate to see some light.

          A cluster of foil balloons whipping in a frenzied wind off the road caught his eye. All at once, he knew this was another nightmare, and his chest squeezed. Any second now, he’d see him. Any moment, he’d try and flag Dex down.

          But he passed the memorial. He physically hesitated, shook his head some, twisting around in his seat to see if he could spot him in the treeline or near the cross. Nothing.

          He pried his eyes from the memorial, pushing the gas hard, relieved and desperate to round the bend so the dream could just be over.

          He turned to see Derek Nurse sizing up a jump onto the road up ahead. He leapt over the short rail, determination on his face, and put himself right in the way of Dex’s truck. He was shouting something, but Dex couldn’t hear.

          There was no time to stop. He tried to swerve, but the wheel jammed up.

          The pickup hit Nurse full force, his top half folding and slamming into the hood before the road took hold of him and he was pulled beneath the vehicle.

          Dex woke up shouting. He threw his pillow halfway across the room, kicking his legs, which still hung off the bed. Sweat poured through his clothes, and he was freezing.

          It was a long, long time before he was able to run his hands down his own face and get up to take a hot shower.

          Another sleepless night.


	3. Chapter 3

         Things changed, after that. Dex tried his best and managed to stay awake for two days after the final nightmare, but was defeated by sleep when he was asked to watch cartoons with his youngest sister on the couch.   
  
         He woke up eight hours later with her curled against his chest, well rested and uninterrupted. And so it went that way the night after, and the one to follow. No nightmares, no ghouls. Nothing to bump in the night or creep under the bed.   
  
         Just to be safe, he took to crashing on the couch. Call it superstition, or desperation, clinging to the only deviation from his routine that chased any thought of Derek Nurse, Prom King, from his mind.   
  
         As a plus, it forced his Mother towards her own room, so she could take off her makeup and take a warm bath before collapsing on the first available resting place.   
  
         Work got easier, and soon he was back to being a contributing member of the team. The guys didn’t ask him what the problem had been, and he didn’t try to tell them. The quiet, mutual respect remained as if nothing had happened. They probably assumed it was family issues, again-- his boss even asked if he needed extra pay this week, which he declined-- and things resumed almost peacefully.   
  
          Dex resigned to carry on. It’s what he always did, what he was good at.   
  
          The uneasy peace didn’t last.   
  
          It’d been an endless shift. He felt as if his arms might sink through the wheel and past the floorboards after heaving dozens of nets, lobsters still thrashing inside of the thick ropes. Pictures of their bodies twisting, claws opening and closing as if in desperation, were fresh in his mind. He wished they’d just go away, and was eager for a distraction from his siblings. Turning the key and pulling it out of the ignition, he hesitated and sniffed the collar of his flannel.   
  
_ Eugh. Seawater.   
_   
          Biting air nipped at his exposed ears outside of the truck’s cab. He rushed to find the right key on the way up to the door, kicking orange and brown leaves out of the way. There was a moment of fumbling in the cold before the key was shoved into the door, and he forced it open.   
  
          He really needed to fix that door. The jam was only getting worse with the autumn weather, and he worried it had something to do with the wood itself. Something unremedied by his older brothers beat up toolbox and a couple nails. Could they afford another door? He was consumed by these thoughts as he stepped inside, shivering as the warmer air rushed over his face.   
  
          Maybe, if he dipped into the littles’ costume money. He hoped it didn’t come to that.   
  
          The house was dark, and quiet. The bones of four microwave dinners were piled across the kitchen counter, presumably because the trash bag was full. Was everyone asleep, already? Dex tugged up his sleeve and glanced at his watch.   
  
_ Damn. _ Midnight, already? How did that happen? He sighed and rubbed his eyes, sinking into the fridge.   
  
          He didn’t know how much longer things could go on like this.   
  
          It didn’t take long for Dex to force himself to get over it. Needed to shower, he told himself. Needed to carry on. Get ready for tomorrow’s shift.   
  
          Using his toe and heel to pry off both work boots, he deposited them on the shoe mountain by the front door, and headed up the stairwell.   
  
          Every room was dark, save the occasional night light-- he only had to stop at one doorway to tell his sisters to go to sleep, and they both pretended to be unconscious so he would go away and they could whisper again.   
  
          At least this meant the bathroom wouldn’t have a line. He shouldered the door open, flicking the light on. It buzzed a couple of times but flickered on nonetheless.  _ Carry on,  _ he thought.  _ Carry on.  
_   
          When he got in the shower itself, the water was warm, and it soothed his aching back and shoulders. He stretched them high above his head, turning his chin and revelling in the way his neck cracked. Scratched his hair so that it stuck up in every possible direction, humming deep in his throat.   
  
           The long, often unnoticed window at his eye level pulled his attention. He wasn’t sure why, it was so familiar it was easy to overlook the way an old tattoo is, and lined with mostly empty shampoo bottles and half dissolved bars of soap, stuck to the tile sill. The window wasn’t very large, and was meant for privacy on his end, a little above his chin level and very thin. Usually plastic blinds covered it, he’d thought. Looking now, he saw that the blinds had been yanked up and were broken in several places. Man, how long had they been like that? He supposed it didn’t matter, the window was way above most of his siblings’ heads anyway.   
  
         The window overlooked a small section of the street, and the hill that lead from the main part of town down to it. As he watched, a car came over the top of the rise.   
  
          It stopped. Jerked some as the brakes were pulled abruptly, and sat at the peak of the road. Dex’s brows pulled together, and he leaned forwards, wiping the glass to try and get a clearer look through the fogged surface. He thought about how stupid it was to stop there, how it must be some teenager visiting from the upperclass part of town. Headed to a party or something.   
  
         His neck prickled when the car revved their engine. Once, twice, then a third time. It fell silent after that, and the headlights came off and on a few times.   
  
_  “Are they going to-” _ He began to mutter to himself, just as the driver slammed the gas.   
  
          The car swerved once or twice in place, tires screaming in protest against the loose gravel they kicked into the air. Then it shot forwards, devouring the road along the way, gathering momentum as it came down the hill. They wouldn’t have enough time to turn, at those speeds. They’d crash right into the neighbor’s.  _ Jesus, wouldn’t they turn?  
_ _   
_ __ The car roared past the only streetlight on the hill, revealing itself as a candy wrapper blue Audi.   
  
          Dex’s breath caught, and a violent chill ran up his back. He shook his head, desperately shoved several of the bottles onto the shower floor, pressing his hands and nose to the window.  
  
          He registered the face of Derek Nurse behind the rolled down driver’s window, face twisted in panic as he now tried to slam the breaks. The car, flying, let out a whole new shriek before swerving out of control. It caught on the curb and flipped, Nurse shielding his face.   
  
         The sound of the car making contact with the building was deafening. Dex cursed, scrambled backwards out of the shower. Grasped for his shirt and boxers, shoving them both on. Barely buttoning the flannel, which stuck to his wet skin, he stuffed his legs best he could into his jeans. He didn’t bother buttoning them.   
  
          Outside of the bathroom door, a knocking had begun. The voice that called to him was fretting, weary. “Will? Hon, what’s going on?”   
  
          He yanked the door open, cool air invading every inch of skin, and pushed past his mother into the dark hallway. He didn’t reply to her, didn’t spend any time on taking in her messy bun or the fact her makeup was now slept in, as well as her waitressing uniform. She reached out for him as he rushed down the steps and he yanked his arm away. “William! What’s happening?!”   
  
          His two youngest sisters, who still hadn’t gone to bed, were now poking their faces out into the hallway. At the foot of the stairs his younger teenage brother looked ready to jump in if anyone was in danger.   
  
          Dex shoved the front door open, even colder air carding through his wet hair and bringing painful tears to his eyes.   
  
          “William, where are you-”  
  
__  “Stay in the house!”  He holds out his hand, and upon seeing the look on his face, his mother listened. She was clearly upset, clearly afraid. He turned back towards the street, hastily going out into his yard so he could get a clear view of the wreckage he’d just witnessed.   
  
          Nothing.   
  
          He hesitated, stumbled back some. Raised his hands to his head and mumbled, “this isn’t right. That’s not right.”   
  
          Seeing him lose steam persuaded her out of the front step, and she caught up quickly, taking him by the arm and turning him towards her. Her features, accentuated by fine lines and creases, were tight with concern. She shook him some, fought to meet his eyes.  “Come inside. Will, look at me- come inside the house. Tell me what’s going on.”   
  
          His eyes slid past her, to find his siblings all watching, similar looks of fear written across their small faces.   
  
          What was he doing? Other than scaring everyone he was supposed to be protecting. The guilt that washed over him was debilitating.   
  
          He let her pull him into an embrace, and nodded to her desperate attempts to comfort him from something she couldn’t understand.   
  
          Dex knew he wasn’t going to tell her anything. He just needed to carry on.   
  
          The streetlight on the hill flickered, and burnt out. 


End file.
